


His Own Worst Enemy

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BAMF Lance (Voltron), Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Sick Lance (Voltron), Stream of Consciousness, concerned team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15743856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Keith wheezed, trying to summon air back to his crushed windpipe. Lance… Lance could have killed him. Lance wasdangerous.He was somehow incapable right now of recognizing friend from foe. Keith staggered to his feet. They needed to stop Lance. They needed to stop himnow./ Lance is not himself. He's sick. And scared. And to protect himself… he has to kill them.





	His Own Worst Enemy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HillsHollow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillsHollow/gifts).



> **Timeline notes:** Set early season three before the team recovers Shiro
> 
>  **Warning notes:** Some violence, nothing major. Hallucinations.

 

“Come here little guy. I don’t bite.”

The fox-like looking creature tilted its head, large ears perked up as it seemed to size up the strange creature kneeling in front of it. Lance held his hand out further, angling his fingers in a “come hither” motion and wished he had food to entice it too.

The fox let out a little _yip_ and took a step forward.

“That’s it, good little fox alien thing,” Lance coaxed.

He’d been placed on guard duty outside of the cave while the rest of the team had gone into what had once been, according to Allura’s very dated intel, a storage facility for one of Altea’s old allies. Based on the state of the planet – overrun with jungle – no one had been here for a long, long time but they had still hoped to find something of possible value.

It was a good mental break too. They’d been spending the last few weeks scouring the universe for Shiro and had nothing to show for it except some bumps, bruises and decreasing hope. This seemed like an easy enough jaunt although Coran’s warning that everything minus the air was poisonous to humans was a bit of a downer.

That and Lance not being allowed inside the cave. So what if he’d dropped a box of very breakable, expensive lab equipment in their last supply run? One time. One time and they told him hands off and Keith assigned him the role of “guard” because apparently they needed someone to keep an eye out for the dangerous wildlife.

If the little fox, about the size of a small cat, that was eyeing him in curiosity was any indication of the local wildlife then  dangerous had a very different meaning. Clearly it meant, cute, fluffy and freaking adorable.

The creature had just about reached him now and it nosed his open palm over the glove and then pushed itself up further against the hand when Lance tentatively brushed his fingers over its back. Its two tails gave a little wag.

“Aren’t you cute?” Lance asked it, carefully bringing his other hand around to descend on its head and the creature nuzzled him. He cooed at it.

The fox then, to his surprise, bunched its small hind legs behind it and _jumped,_ landing atop his hand and then proceeding to traverse up his arm, small little nails digging in but not really painfully into his undersuit.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lance chuckled, not dissuading it in the least as it continued its climb.

He got a little yip in response and he swore the alien smiled at him. Lance shook his head around his own grin. 

It was up his arm now and balancing itself on his shoulder pad, tails spread wide for balance. One of its large ears brushed against the bottom of Lance’s chin and he laughed in delight.

It was so _soft._

“You’re pretty cuddly, you know that? I’d ask what kind of shampoo you use but I’m sure you’re all natural. It’s too bad humans aren’t like that. Or Galra.” Lance winced. “Keith has this _awful_ haircut and it’s so _greasy._ I’m thinking of having Hunk help me corner him in the bathroom and wash it myself. I mean, he’s the leader now. He needs to keep up appearances.”

The fox let out a little mewl and brought its face up towards Lance’s chin, nuzzling the bare skin there.

Lance sighed. “It’s not entirely his fault. We’re all a little rough. Well, except for me. And Allura.” He flashed the fox a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “But I haven’t even done a face mask in like… a movement. We’ve just been… so worried, you know?”

The fox probably had no idea but it let out another sound and Lance brought up a hand to stroke along its back as it settled into a sit on his shoulder. He wondered if Coran would let him keep it. Kaltenecker would probably love a new friend too, right?

“Shiro… he went missing after a big fight,” Lance confided to the alien. “We don’t know where he went and we’ve been searching for almost two months now. I…” he bit his lip. “I don’t know if we’re going to find him. And I don’t know what we’re going to do if we can’t.”

The fox let out a little mewl and a rough orange tongue licked Lance’s jaw.

“Hey, hey, that tickles,” Lance protested as the fox did it again although he made no move to stop its ministrations. He let out a soft sigh instead and brought a hand up to brush against the fur as the fox nuzzled its soft head against his cheek below the visor. “Thanks, little guy,” he murmured. He got another lick.

A sudden banging and shouting from inside the cave had the fox letting out a little cry of alarm and it _leapt_ from Lance’s shoulder and hit the ground running. It disappeared into the undergrowth of the jungle just as Hunk emerged, soot covering his visor and chestplate and the large shocked whites of his eyes blinking through the grime.

“Uh, apparently this box is explosive,” he said by way of introduction.

Lance chuckled, rubbed his hand across his cheek to remove the fox slobber, and went to assist. At least this time _he_ wasn’t the one who had broken the equipment.

xxx

Lance felt sick.

He curled up on his bed with a low moan, hands pressing against his rolling stomach.

It did not help.

He felt hot and cold all at once but the thought of getting up to get a glass of cold water made his stomach hurt more and pain pulse in his head and he whimpered.

“Mamá,” he whispered, more of a breath than anything. He wanted his mom. She would make it better, he knew it.

She did not appear, just like he knew she couldn’t.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing painfully, feeling like there was a wad of cotton jammed into his throat, and pressed his head into the pillow, damp with drool. Lance swallowed thickly again, licking suddenly chapped lips.

Was he sick?

It was hard to think and he groaned as his head pounded even more.

He just needed to go back to sleep. He’d be fine in the morning.

xxx

Where was he?

He felt like he was on fire and his throat was parched as the sand of Varadero Beach under the high noon sun, yet the thought of getting something to drink had him choking on his dry swallow and he wanted to cry.

Something flickered in the corner of his vision and Lance lurched to the side, breath pounding in his ears and stomach heaving at the action.

Only darkness stared back.

There! He flipped his head the other way as a flash of light burst in his vision ... but there was nothing there.

He moaned, shaking and eyes blown wide. Something was _here._ Something _dangerous._

He was in danger.

He forced leaden limbs to move, each shift causing his head to _ache_ but he needed to find safety, find protection. He was exposed here; elevated off the ground and open on three of four sides.

That wasn’t safe.

He needed to find something enclosed. Something to guard.

He could guard. He made a good guard. He… He frowned, the image of a darkened opening and wild greenery pressing  in. He… he had guarded that place. But no. That was too big.

Smaller. He needed something smaller.

He dragged himself from the bed, hitting the ground with a jarring _thump_ that sent pain rattling in his skull. His stomach lurched again and Lance tasted acid in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down, the action making his eyes sting with tears.

He clumsily crawled to his desk – small, safe, small, safe – ducking underneath the opening and pulling the chair and blanket that had stayed wrapped about his ankle in with him.

Safe.

The wall was at his back now, completely ensconced under the furniture and he could see anything that came at him.

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

xxx

He wasn’t safe.

His heavy breaths were echoing about the small space. Small. It was too small. Dark eyes peered out of the opening, chest heaving as they took in the room. Only one exit. Dangerous. No escape.

They could find him here. So easily.

Who they were he didn’t know. But they were bad.

They were in the corners of his eyes, flashes of light and teeth, but whenever he looked at them head on they vanished.

They were dangerous. He was in danger.

He had to protect himself.

He had to leave.

He wasn’t safe.

He couldn’t defend himself here.

Long limbs bunched below him and he rose, the room spinning around him.

He didn’t know where he was going to go but he knew it wasn’t here. Knew he needed something to protect himself with.

No.

Not just protect.

Fight.

A sharp grinned pulled up his face, highlighting flushed cheeks and pinpricked eyes.

He would fight.

He would make sure they could never hurt him.

Something pressed in on his mind, a strange shaped object. He didn’t entirely know it but at the same time he did.

He had to get to it.

It would let him fight.

Let him _kill._

The shapes moved again and although he was scared – terrified, it was coursing through him and making every hair stand up – he knew he would die if he stayed there. They could surround him and pounce and maim and claw and tear and _kill._

He had to get up. He had to go.

Instinct guided him out the door, the bright lights searing his eyes and he moaned, moving a hand up to block it out.

The action unbalanced him and he crashed loudly to the floor, curling up around his stomach as it heaved.

This time he couldn’t stop it.

Acid clawed its way up his throat and he choked on it. It _hurt._ Swallowing though hurt even more and he gasped for air, hands splayed on the ground in front of him, blurry indistinct things. He retched again.

There was another sound then over his own.

Something was coming.

He shuddered. They were _here._

It reached out, hot, too hot, and landed on him. It was making noises, high pitched and quick and it grabbed him then, claws sinking into his skin.

Panic seized him for a second.

It was going to kill him.

But.

Not if he killed it first.

No. Not kill. Not yet. He didn’t have a weapon. He couldn’t kill them without it.

Get away. The thought filled him. Get away get away get away. He could live to fight another day. Get away.

He moved.

It was bigger. Taller. Unbalanced.

He slammed his shoulder into it and the creature let out a shout of surprise.

It didn’t let go.

He whirled to face it, its shape more pronounced now and not disappearing even though he still could not make out its features save for gleaming white teeth set into a dark face where a pair of eyes sat above it.

His target.

Strike!

Open palm, fingers pointed, gouge, _blind it._

He felt his own flesh connect against, something crack under his palm – nose, came the indistinct thought – and then his fingers dug into something soft.

Not wet though.

Not the eyes.

He’d missed.

The creature still screamed though and released him.

He did not wait around.

Get away get away get away.

And with his throat burning and stomach swirling and legs shaking he forced himself to do so, headed for the weapon he knew would save him.

He would kill all of them.

And then he would be _safe._

xxx

“Hunk!”

Pidge’s scared cry cut through the haze of pain as blood streamed down his lower face from where Lance had _broken his nose._

Hunk still couldn’t believe it.

“Hunk!” Keith sounded then and Hunk opened eyes watering from the pain, the action hurting as he swore his eyelids were bruised. He’d barely closed them in time before Lance was driving his fingers towards them and his right eye had taken quite the hit.

He was lucky, as blurry and painful as seeing was, that he could still do it.

Small hands were digging into his nightshirt then and another set was roughly grabbing his face and then started cursing. Hunk winced at the language and winced more as his own hands were pried from his nose and his head was forced to tip forward. His yellow pajama pants swam into view and Hunk focused on them and the small drops of red that were beginning to pattern it.

Like little flowers. Little bloody flowers.

Hunk’s own stomach heaved and he added its contents to the mess Lance had left behind. The small hand was rubbing circles on his back then and focused on that as his stomach struggled to right itself lest he do it again. His nose tingled at the bitter scent and he groaned.

“Who did this?” Keith demanded.

Hunk forced his head up, away from the splatter and blood, and met Keith’s narrowed eyes.

“L-Lance,” he coughed out, throat raw.

“Lance?” Pidge repeated incredulous. “What the actual fuck?”

“Something’s wrong,” Hunk gasped, hand going back to his nose to try and stem the sluggish blood flow. His gaze darted between Keith and Pidge. “He’s sick.”

“Sick?” Keith’s frown didn’t diminish.

“Woke up to use the bathroom and heard someone in the hall, puking,” Hunk said, words tripping over themselves in his haste and compounded with the blood still dripping out of his nose.  “It was Lance. He… he looked _awful.”_

Awful really didn’t begin to describe it. Lance had been in sweat-soaked pajamas, the shirt clinging like a second skin to his torso, and an unhealthy flush had coated his cheeks, but Hunk tried to explain it to Keith and Pidge. And then when Hunk had called out his name he’d been treated to eyes that were bare pinpricks and a look of blind terror he didn’t normally associate with Lance.

But it was the red mark, a splotch just above Lance’s jawline, that had really caught his attention. A rash?

He’d tried to reach out, to comfort Lance and get a closer look and then…

“He was terrified,” Hunk said quietly. “I… I don’t think he knew it was me.”

“Where did he go?” Keith straightened up. Hunk noted he was still in his daily clothes despite the fact it was almost 0400 hours, with his luxite blade in a sheath at his back.

“I don’t know,” Hunk admitted, shakily pulling himself to his feet. “But we have to find him. He’s…” Not well. Scared. Confused. Hurt. Sick.

In _pain._ Hunk had seen it in his face. Lance was hurting and he had no idea why.

“Pidge, get Allura,” Keith ordered, “Hunk, get Coran. Meet on the bridge. We’ll find him on the cameras. He’s on the ship somewhere.” They both stared at him, macabre gore painting the bottom of Hunk’s face and Pidge’s eyes overbright without the cover of her glasses. “Go!”

“Right,” Hunk said, scrambling to his feet. “Right.” The larger boy’s hands were shaking and Keith wished he knew what to do to comfort him but he didn’t and so he did nothing. He’d already confirmed that Hunk’s nose was a clean break; nothing to impair him now and something a cryo-pod could fix within the varga.

Lance though…

Lance sounded like he was in trouble.

This wasn’t some weird nightmare if Hunk’s recollection was to go by and the fact he had been so… _violent_ unnerved Keith to a degree he was surprised by. Lance was not a violent person, not in the slightest. And if he did fight he did it from afar.

Keith hadn’t even been aware Lance knew how to fight close distance but there was no mistaking Hunk’s injury, as quick as his glance had been. Some sort of strike to his nose to make his eyes water and then Lance had gone for his eyes, Hunk’s right already purpling although Keith hadn’t said anything to further alarm him.

When had Lance learned that?

He didn’t head for the bridge, not yet. If Lance was scared he had an idea of where he would go.

The training room was Keith’s solace. The kitchen Hunk’s. For Pidge it was her workshop, spaced between the Green Lion’s hangar and the lounge.

For Lance… it was the Blue Lion.

Although…

Keith halted. Lance wasn’t the Blue Paladin. Not anymore. He hadn’t been such for nearly a month and he hadn’t gone to her hangar since the Paladin swap. There were so many things that made Keith feel sick with Shiro’s absence, and one of the big ones was definitely Lance’s loss of the Blue Lion. He knew from piloting the Black Lion that it just wasn’t the _same_ as his original Lion; Red was special to him. She understood him, and the Blue Lion and Lance had always had something special.

He shook his head, pushing the guilt-laden thoughts away. Not now. Now was finding Lance before anything worse happened and hopefully Coran would know what was wrong. Keith had no idea. Lance had been fine earlier in the day, petulant about the guard duty but then all high spirits later in the evening even as he sat with Hunk to polish the soot-covered armor back to a shine. He’d gone to bed the same time as Hunk and nothing had seemed wrong then.

What had changed?

Keith waffled in indecision as he reached the junction of the hall where right would take him towards the Blue Lion’s hangar and left towards the Red Lion’s. Where would Lance go?

Right, he decided. Lance wasn’t thinking clearly – wasn’t thinking at all if he’d hurt Hunk – and he’d go for Blue.

Keith was pleased to report that his hunch was correct. He was not so pleased to see the state his friend was in.

Lance was nearly to the Blue Lion’s hangar but had paused, one hand splayed on the wall and his shuddering visible even from this distance and breaths coming in heavy gasps as though he couldn’t get enough air.

“Lance?” he called out carefully and Lance stiffened at the address, slowly turning his head.

Keith understood what Hunk meant by sick now, and not just sick-sick. There was a desperate gleam in Lance’s shrunken eyes, a tremble to his form that couldn’t be from cold, not with how dark his cheeks were.

And the rash Hunk had mentioned… Keith frowned. It was no longer just a spot on his jaw line but had stretched higher, brushing against the apple of his high cheekbone and turning brown skin sickly red.

Keith would bet his luxite blade that that was somehow related to Lance’s state.

“Lance,” he repeated, taking a step forward.

Lance growled.

Keith blinked. What…?

Lance did it again, a low throated sound accompanied by a whimper of pain. His eyes were looking directly at Keith but… but he wasn’t seeing him. Not really.

Lance shifted then, legs bunching beneath him and Keith started.

Was Lance going to charge him?

Yes, his brain supplied as Lance leapt forward. Yes he was.

Keith braced his own feet, bringing his hands up in a self-defense pose. An hour ago he wouldn’t have been worried at all – this was _Lance,_ Lance couldn’t fight – but he’d made some nasty strikes on Hunk and Keith wasn’t going to be unprepared.

He’d stop him here. Block whatever punch Lance threw, grab his extended wrist and take him to the ground. He’d apologize later but Lance needed help and Keith was going to get it for him.

Lance closed the distance between them quicker than Keith anticipated based on Lance’s seemingly unsteady balance, but it was fine. All he had to do was block—

A yell was torn from Keith’s throat as rather than reaching out with a punch, despite the fact Lance’s fists were closed, a long leg extended instead and a bare foot slammed beneath his own raised arms and directly into his stomach.

Keith was sent flying, skidding down the hall.

Lance chased after him and Keith barely managed to get his hand below himself and jump back onto his feet as Lance slammed his foot down with a jarring thump right where Keith had been. The shock didn’t even pause Lance as he swung his other leg around in a roundhouse kick that Keith barely evaded.

If Keith wasn’t so worried he’d have allowed himself to be impressed.

But as Lance moved in again, eyes filled only with an unseeing desperation, Keith realized he wasn’t just worried.

He was scared.

This wasn’t Lance.

And yet it was. And Keith had a sickening feeling Lance was just as scared as him, if not more so.

What did he do?

“Lance,” he tried out the other boy’s name again, hoping it would break into whatever was holding Lance under, blocking a deceptively strong punch from Lance and then another one. “Lance, stop!”

Lance responded by dropping to the ground, bracing his weight on his hands, and throwing out both feet in a spear kick, impacting with Keith’s leg and sending him to the ground himself but much less gracefully.

He dragged himself back up, more wary now of Lance’s long reach and circled about in the narrow hall. “Lance, stop this,” he ordered.

Lance snarled at him, saliva coating his lips and teeth, and the rash had spread further in their brief meeting, trailing over the bridge of his nose and taking up residence on the majority of his left cheek.

He looked feral.

Keith swallowed, hand going instinctually to the handle of his blade before he forced himself to release it. This was Lance. Not an enemy.

“Lance, I don’t want to hurt you,” Keith pleaded, dodging another of Lance’s long kicks, injured leg providing a limp he could not afford. “Stop this.”

Lance lunged and Keith took in a noisy inhale.

He wasn’t guarded as before, more open.

Keith blocked Lance’s first punch and managed to halt the leg sweeping up in a snapkick, grunting as his knee smashed against Lance’s. He didn’t pause though reaching with his other hand to grab for the back of Lance’s shirt and drag him bodily to the ground.

Lance he realized a tick too late though hadn’t been trying to punch him that time.

He’d gone for the knife.

Keith could feel the handle being yanked against the sheath, his belt jerking at the harsh movement and he snarled out a “No!” and pivoted, slamming them both shoulder first into the narrow hall wall and then reached for Lance’s arm, digging his own blunt nails into the dark skin.

Lance let out a yelp and ripped his arm free, taking a few stumbling steps backwards. They’d changed positions, Keith realized; he now closer to the Blue Lion’s hangar and Lance back towards the main hallway.

He was between Lance and his destination.

But to his surprise Lance paused, almost straightening fully as his chest heaved up and down and more saliva dripping down from his gaping mouth.

And then he turned and ran.

“Lance!” Keith gave chase, legs shorter but he was still quick.

Lance tore around the corner and a few ticks later Keith barreled around it –

Right into Lance’s outstretched arm angled perfectly to crush against his neck.

Keith gagged at the force and was sent plummeting to his knees, dark spots dancing in his vision and _pain_ bursting behind his eyes.

Lance ran again.

And this time Keith couldn’t go after him.

He dropped onto his hands, bent over, wheezing and trying to summon air back to his crushed windpipe.

Lance…

Lance could have killed him.

Just a little more pressure, his arm just a hair higher, Keith moving a bit faster… his neck could have been snapped.

Lance…

Lance was _dangerous._

And whatever had happened to him he was incapable of recognizing friend from foe.

Keith staggered to his feet.

They needed to stop Lance.

They needed to stop him _now._

xxx

His breath was coming in pained exhales, each thrum igniting his throat and he awkwardly spat, trying to clear it.

They had attacked him.

He whimpered, cowering against the wall he had collapsed against, fingers digging into his shoulders.  It had _hurt_ him.

He’d stopped it, for now. It would be back.

It would be back with a _weapon._ He knew that’s what that was, he just knew it. He’d tried to get it for himself, intending to gut the creature where it stood, but he’d failed.

He’d failed because that wasn’t his weapon.

He needed _his_ weapon.

If he didn’t get it he was going to die. He needed his weapon. Then he could stop them.

Then he could kill them.

Then he would be _safe._

Safe safe safe safe safe.

Trembling legs, burning with exertion they were not used to, pulled him up to standing and he took an uneven step down the hall and then another. This was a different place, but…

But he knew this place.

His feet carried him over to a door and shaking hands pulled it open.

There.

Lots of weapons.

His weapon wasn’t there, but…

But these were close enough.

He picked one up, holding it reverently to his chest.

Now all he needed was a place to ambush and kill them.

His lips curled up.

He knew just the place.

He would be safe soon.

xxx

“What the fuck happened to you?” Pidge shrieked as Keith limped onto the bridge.

“Lance,” he said simply and Pidge gulped. He turned his attention to the two Alteans, Allura pouring through the castle’s cameras and Coran in front of Hunk and bandaging the bridge of the boy’s nose, which had been cleared of blood although a dark russet had stained already into Hunk’s shirt. “He was heading away from Blue’s hangar,” he told Allura, coming up next to her.

“Keith, man,” Hunk looked over Coran’s shoulder at him, eyes wide. “What--?”

“I’m fine,” Keith cut in. He ignore the fact his words were coming out as a rasp.

Hunk and Coran joined them all at the screens as Allura flipped through them rapidly. Coran’s face was unnaturally grim and he spoke quietly as the cameras continued to play.

“It was a rash you said?” addressed to Hunk.

“Yeah, on his jaw,” Hunk said. “Just a spot here,” he tapped his own.

Keith shook his head. “Not anymore. It’s spreading across his whole face.”

“Oh dear,” Coran murmured.

“You know what this is?” Keith rounded on him, tone sharper than he meant it but he couldn’t help it.

“Possibly,” Coran said. “I’d need a visual to confir—“

“There he is!” Pidge exclaimed, eyes well used to scanning lines of code and picking out the blip of movement before anyone else registered it. “Camera twenty-six!”

Allura pulled that one to the front and it showed Lance walking with more purpose than Keith had seen before down the hallway, an Altean blaster in his hand and his eyes, still pinpricked, narrowed. The rash had spread even more, creeping down his neck and angling towards his forehead.

“Oh dear,” Coran repeated. “It is that.”

“Is what?” Keith ground out.

“The planet we were on I warned was very poisonous,” Coran said, turning from the camera to scroll rapidly through his tablet. “Not just the flora but the fauna as well. One of the most deadly is the zora fox, whose toxin can produce fevers, vivid hallucinations and confusion and then ultimately death via either dehydration, as the body rejects fluids, or the toxin depending on the size of its prey.”

“So space rabies,” Pidge frowned.

“But Lance didn’t get bit! He’d have said something,” Hunk defended his best friend.

“The zora fox transmits its toxin through its saliva,” Coran continued. “Here, look.” He turned the tablet display to show the gathered Paladins an image of the fox, a fluffy thing in pale creams that looked absolutely nothing like a poisonous creature should. And Lance always had had a thing for animals… Everyone winced around the tablet.

“It’s not a violent creature, quite friendly actually,” Coran explained, rotating the tablet back. “They typically do not use their toxins on their prey as they hunt insects, but it is a deterrent to being eaten by larger species. They show affection and comfort to their kind by licking one another.”

 “Is there a cure?” Pidge asked quietly, eyes back on the screen as Lance continued his forward progress, Allura shifting to a new camera.

“There is,” Coran said, but his voice was grim. “But we will require the zora fox and a sample of its saliva.”

“I shall turn the ship around immediately,” Allura said. “We have not made it far; it shall take but a few varga.”

“Unfortunately Princess we don’t have a few varga,” Coran said gravely. “Based on how the rash has spread we have perhaps two before the toxin showcased reaches his heart. And then…”

“What? No!” Hunk whirled on the advisor.

Coran held up a hand. “Do not despair yet, Number Two. For while it may take us longer than the allotted time to retrieve and formulate an antidote, we can still save Number Three.  If we are able to sedate him the toxin will slow and buy us time. I may be able to create something too with some of the antidotes we have on hand to give us a little more.”

“Excellent,” Allura applauded. “Coran—”

“Uh, what is he doing?” Pidge interrupted and everyone turned back to the cameras. Lance had paused in his trek and had turned to look pointedly at the camera with a decidedly narrowed glare. As they watched he raised the blaster up.

“He’s going to shoot out the camera!” Hunk gasped.

“Well fuck,” Pidge muttered as the screen was lit with a bright flare from the blaster and then went dark. “There goes our visual.”

Keith was frowning again at the screen, idly massaging his throat. Lance was showing surprising skills that he’d had no idea the other boy possessed – he knew he was an excellent shot but the hand-to-hand, the tactics? It wasn’t something he normally associated with Lance. He expressed as such out loud and despite the direness of the situation Hunk let out a low chuckle.

“You don’t know? Lance’s sister is a highly decorated Garrison officer; she taught him all he knows about shooting and fighting. Tactics too, to an extent.”

“Lance isn’t dumb,” Pidge added, going to push up her glasses and realizing they weren’t there. “His math and science scores are nothing to brag about but on situational awareness and tactical planning? He ranked highest in the class. It was his piloting skills that were his lowpoint and ultimately what got him sent to cargo.”

Keith felt like he’d been sucker-punched and managed to utter out a very intelligible, “…what?”

“Why has he never said anything then?” he demanded, glancing between his two fellow humans.

Hunk gave an uncomfortable roll of his shoulders. “Dunno, man. You’d have to ask him.”

Keith didn’t have to ask though. It was clear based on Hunk’s response. He’d seen it when Lance had come to him about the Lion swap and had while he’d dismissed Lance’s concerns he hadn’t forgotten them; Lance lacked self-confidence and despite his apparent many, _many_ talents he didn’t think he measured up. He would have kept quiet in the face of Shiro and Allura’s leadership and let them – the older, more experienced – ones take charge and then when Shiro had pushed for Keith to take on his role and then the Black Lion had chosen him…

Of course Lance wouldn’t say anything. He had shown above all else to support his team despite his claims of desire for fame.

Keith felt like an idiot.

He was also impressed. So long as all of this worked out he and Lance were going to have a long talk about his role on the team.

Which brought him back to what they needed to do.

“Okay,” he addressed the group, noting in his peripheral as Lance shot out his third camera. “Coran, you work on this antidote. Princess, fly the castle as fast as you can back to the planet. Hunk, Pidge, you’re with me. We’re going to take Lance down.”

xxx

He could feel them watching. Eyes. Eyes everywhere.

He eliminated them.

They weren’t going to get him. They wern’t. He would kill them first.

He was ready now.

He’d positioned himself high – height advantage, pick them off, they would _die –_ with a large window covering his back and space enough to maneuver on the beams to the left or right should he need to escape.

But no escape needed.

He would kill them.

It was dark now. He’d eliminated all of the lights. They could see him with the lights.

So no lights. The only ones were from the hall, filtering in through the open doorway, so he could see them.

They would be dead before they entered.

Dead dead dead.

And then he would be _safe._

A strange noise worked its way up his throat. A laugh, he identified.

It sounded funny.

He laughed more at it, even as he choked around the pain and the incessant build up in his mouth and the pain in his head and the turning in his stomach.

Dead dead dead.

xxx

“He’s on the observation deck,” Keith’s voice echoed over the comms. “Hurry, but quietly.” He’d stayed on the bridge to watch the path Lance made via the darkened cameras while Pidge and Hunk had hurried to retrieve their bayards and change out their pajamas into their Paladin armor, as theirs were in their hangars. He was going to make a quick stop on his way to his room before heading to the observation deck as he had started keeping his armor there. It never hurt to be too prepared.

“Be careful, Keith,” Coran warned as he moved towards the exit, and the use of his name brought Keith up short. “Number Three is suffering under a vivid hallucination. Based on your earlier encounter he _will_ be trying to kill you and you are still injured.” Keith winced at the reminder and his throat pulsed. “You cannot afford to be gentle or talk him down. Time is of the essence.”

“I know,” Keith nodded, grim. “I know.”

They were going to have to go in hard and fast. And that was going to be harder said than done as Lance had no doubt made a sniper’s nest for himself. The observation deck had high platforms with a clear view of the single door.

If time wasn’t an issue the best thing to do would be to wait Lance out; between the fever and other illness symptoms he would eventually collapse and they could proceed without such a high level threat. But they didn’t have that option.

Lance was becoming his own worst enemy; time and fever and the toxin working against him in a fight he had no idea was even being waged. If they didn’t subdue Lance quickly then Lance would _die_.

Pidge and Hunk were waiting outside the door when Keith arrived after quickly changing, crouched on either side of the opening.

“All the lights are out inside,” Pidge reported. “And we’re silhouetted by the door.”

“Allura, can you kill the lights?” Keith asked. A moment later the hallway was plunged into darkness and the night vision on their helmets activated, bathing everything in an eerie green glow.

 “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Keith said. “Pidge, you’re going to make a hologram and send it in. While Lance is firing at that we’re all going to go in, shields up. Make sure not to look directly at the blasts as it will white out our vision with the night option. Hunk, you and I are going to be further bait and draw his fire; use your canon once we have a heading but don’t hit him.”

“No shit,” Pidge muttered.

“Pidge, you’re in charge of incapacitating him.” His eyes narrowed even as his stomach clenched. “By whatever means necessary.”

Pidge gave a slow nod. “Ten four,” she whispered, hand tightening on her bayard. She’d only shocked Lance the one time in jest and despite his claims she knew it had hurt. To willingly hurt him again… but she had no other choice. It was his life on the line.

A minute later she flashed a thumbs up, hologram programmed. Keith nodded and inclined his head.

The pixilated version of Pidge leapt from the side of the door and into the darkened opening, waving its hands wildly.

Nothing fired at it.

The three exchanged confused glances.

“He is in there, right?” Hunk whispered.

“Yeah, no doubt,” Keith replied. “All right Paladins, shields up. Pidge, stay behind us and go for Lance once we’ve drawn his attention. He’ll be up high somewhere so look sharp.”

He took a deep breath.

Time to go.

His shield clicked into place and he heard Hunk’s do the same. Keith caught the other boy’s gaze and as one they rose up from opposite sides of the door and then stepped together into the doorway.

The harsh sizzle of a blaster greeted them.

“Two o’clock!” Keith shouted, tracking the light of the blast and having switched off his night vision. He didn’t need it to see Lance’s position now.

Another shot hit them and then another, but it was moving.

“He’s using the rafters!” Hunk gasped, deflecting another shot.

Lance was barely visible, a dark smudge keeping low but rolling above up top and changing his location. Hunk grunted as another blast clipped his shield.

It had nothing though on Keith’s actual yelp as the next shot didn’t aim at their torsos and heads covered by the defense but at their feet where there was nothing to protect them.

A weakness, an opening.

Of course Lance would notice it.

“Keith!” Hunk screamed as the smaller boy stumbled backwards as Lance turned his barrage solely on the Black Paladin. Keith’s shield flickered under the onslaught.

Hunk dissolved his own shield and hefted his bayard up, cannon glowing. “Sorry, _hermano,”_ he muttered.

And he opened fire.

The beams went high, arcing into the space above Lance’s head and illuminating him for the briefest of seconds.

Nearly his entire face was a mask of sick red.

Those pinpricked eyes gave the barest glance at Hunk and Hunk realized with a sinking feeling that Lance somehow _knew_ that the shots weren’t going to connect.

Another opening.

It was Hunk’s turn to yell as Lance shifted from his steady stream of hits to Keith’s nearly dissolved shield to Hunk and the blast connected front and center on his chestplate and sending him staggering backwards.

If he wasn’t wearing the thick Paladin armor he’d be dead.

There was a flicker of movement up above with Lance and Hunk’s heart leapt into his throat as he realized Pidge was making her move, having scaled up the tower into the rafters in the firefight, agile as always.

Lance saw it too.

He turned, pivoting on his heels to the new threat, to Pidge who would take an almost point blank hit at that range.

“Oh no you don’t!” Hunk’s canon shrunk back to his bayard, smaller and lighter, and he hefted it like he would a baseball.

And he threw.

It flew straight and true. Lance sensed it, turning to block the incoming projectile and Pidge _struck,_ launching her bayard. There was a glimmer of white and green light that burned against the night vision and then…

Then Lance _screamed._

It was a horrible sound, rasping and hoarse and scared and in so, so much pain.

Keith was already propelling himself up and Hunk hated how he was forced to wait below, no easy handholds to the rafters and he was not a good climber.

Lance’s screams had changed now from pained to desperate shrieks, rage and terror and entirely unintelligible. They cut off with a suddenness that had Hunk’s hair rising.

“Hunk,” Keith called down, head popping out above the beam and making eye contact with him. “Catch.”

That was all the warning offered as Lance’s body was tipped over the side, wrapped up still in Pidge’s bayard cords. Hunk neatly caught the limp form, cradling Lance to him. This close he could see the red streaks making macabre lines down Lance’s neck and dipping below his sweat-soaked shirt.

Keith and Pidge jumped down then too, using the blast from their jetpacks to slow their descent.

“What happened?” Hunk asked, looking from one face to the next.

“I got him with my bayard,” Pidge said quietly, voice small and horrified. She was trembling, hands tucked up underneath her arms. Hunk wished he could hug her. He resolved to do so once his arms were free, but for now they tightened around Lance, who gave a soft moan of pain. “He… oh…”

“You had to,” Hunk cut in gently. “It’s okay, Pidge.”

She sniffled but nodded.

“I knocked him out,” Keith put in. At Hunk’s widened expression he hurried, “pressure point on the back of his neck; better than being in pain. He’ll probably be waking up soon though and we need to get him sedated before that. Come on, hurry.”

No one could argue with that logic.

And so they hurried from the observation deck and towards the medical bay to where help hopefully awaited.

xxx

Lance woke up to gentle voices and a hand carding through his hair. He turned into it with an appreciative hum, not quite sure what was going on but not about to complain.

His body felt heavy, his eyelids moreso as he tried to open them. But he was comfortable, something warm and soft draped across him and a pillow beneath his head and of course the hand… that had stilled in its caress. He frowned at that and tried his best to nudge it back to moving.

“I see someone is waking up,” came the amused sounding voice of Hunk.

“Mlergh,” Lance put out eloquently, tongue feeling like sandpaper and his throat even drier.

“How about a drink, Number Three?” Coran’s accented tones asked. “Number Two, if you could…?”

Hands slid beneath Lance’s back and he felt himself being propped up against more pillows. He forced his eyes open then, blinking away the sleep crust. He was in his room, he realized, and everyone was there.

Pidge was sitting on the bed next to him, hers the hands in his hair that had retreated now and he tried not to whine at the loss. Hunk was next to him on the pulled up desk chair while Allura had perched herself regally on the foot of his bed. Keith was standing behind Hunk and Coran was bustling back over with a water pouch that Lance eagerly eyed and choosing to focus on it to soothe his throat rather than the strange gathering. A blurry nightmare of a sort was tugging at him, teeth and claws and glowing eyes but when he tried to focus on it it slipped away, leaving him reeling more than the vertigo from sitting up.

A straw slid into his mouth and he sucked on it greedily, draining it in seconds. He swallowed a few times, throat thick but after the fourth try he felt better and tried to speak.

“I had the strangest dream.”

To his surprise there were a few barks of laughter about the room although Hunk’s eyes watered and he felt Pidge’s hand tighten where it had come to clasp about his upper arm.

“That’s one way to put it,” Keith said quietly, his voice a rasp. Lance blinked in surprise at the giant bruise that took up Keith’s neck. When had…?

“There’s quite a bit to fill you in on, my boy,” Coran said gently. “But for now, rest. Your body is still healing.”

Healing? Rest? What?

What had happened?

“Everything’s fine, _hermano,”_ Hunk assured him, sensing his stirrings of panic. “Just…”

“Just no more being a complete badass motherfucker for a while, okay?” Pidge cut in. “We’re not all prepared for that level of awesomeness yet.”

“…what?” Lance croaked.

“We’re going to have a talk when you’re feeling better,” Keith told him seriously as Hunk shifted him to lie back down. “And whether I have to beat it into you or whatever, you’re going to hear about how you are an integral part of this team and…” his lips quirked up into a small smirk. “A complete badass.”

Okay. Lance was no longer worried now but he was very, very confused and rather touched too. He’d have liked answers but his eyelids were dragging down again and he heard Coran gently murmur that the sedative would take a little longer to work its way out.

“Rest now, Lance,” Allura smoothed the blanket over his leg. “We shall answer your questions when you awaken.”

He gave a sleepy mumble of confirmation to that and closed his eyes and a small smile turned up his lips.

A badass, huh?

He liked the sound of that.

But more than that he liked the sounds of his team, his family, settling in around him and clearly planning to stay until he awoke again.

And surrounded by their clear comfort and concern Lance slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for the lovely HillsHollow (6k-7k words) with the prompt along the lines of Lance contracting space rabies but not being aware of it and then displaying it symptoms while showcasing his tactical skills and instincts and surprising the team (mainly Keith or Shiro) with such talents and ending happily with a nod if possible to how Lance got the abilities from a female family member. Season seven and Veronica’s actual role came in at a pretty darn good time! ;p
> 
> Definitely a fun piece to do from Lance’s devolving thought process as the fever and confusion compounded his hallucinations (while he still moved on instinct and training to keep himself “safe”) and the team’s concern and growing realizations on Keith’s part. Also, PSA, don’t pet the wildlife no matter how cute and fluffy it appears.
> 
> Enjoy the fic? Please do drop a comment with your reaction; a comment is the best way to tell an author thanks for the fic and we love to hear from you! Favorite scene, line, dialogue, impression, etc. Please and thank you!


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